


little fairy-tale romance

by ninwrites



Series: Do I Dare Disturb The Universe? [18]
Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Alec Lightwood Deserves Nice Things, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Domestic Fluff, Dorks in Love, Established Relationship, Falling In Love, Flashbacks, Friends to Lovers, Friendship/Love, Gift Fic, Good Parent Maryse Lightwood, Happy Ending, Light Angst, M/M, Magnus Bane Deserves Nice Things, Malec Secret Santa 2018, Modern Royalty, Prince Alec Lightwood, Slow Dancing, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, True Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-28
Updated: 2018-12-28
Packaged: 2019-09-29 06:42:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,446
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17198480
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ninwrites/pseuds/ninwrites
Summary: A seasonal tale of love, hope, and the importance of never giving up on your dreams.





	little fairy-tale romance

**Author's Note:**

  * For [The-roci (Dead_walking)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dead_walking/gifts).



> this was a gift fic for the lovely [sonja](https://the-roci.tumblr.com/) as part of the [malec secret santa](http://malecsecretsanta.tumblr.com/post/181397073756/merry-christmas-the-roci) exchange! I had an absolute delight writing this, and I hope it's as enjoyable for everyone reading it ❤
> 
>  --
> 
> title from ‘Wrap Me Up Under the Christmas Tree’ by A Great Big World. all my love to [yara](twitter.com/cardanscrown) for looking this over for me ❤

 

Alec shuts the front door with his foot, arms laden with takeout – delivered, because it’s in the low forties outside, the streets blanketed with freezing, mushy snow, and Magnus didn’t want to make the trek with him. Nor would he let Alec go himself.

 

“Food’s here.” He calls out, unpacking the bags on the kitchen bench, the smell of Thai filling the air.

 

It’s the little things, the takeout and the napkins they keep in the drawer and the cheap, standard white plates that chip after a single use, that make this place home, for how far it is from the silver and gold of the palace he was born in. Here, there are no crystal chandeliers glinting like a mirror ball, no marble ballroom floors and grand doors that creak when they move and silverware that must be polished after every meal – instead, there’s the kettle that makes a high pitched whistling that mimics a scream and the welcome mat by the front door, worn in from Alec’s sneakers and Magnus’ fancy boots, and the little glass coffee table they cover with stacks of books they never have time to read.

 

Here, Alec doesn’t have to be a prince, he doesn’t have to be royalty, he just has to be  _ himself _ . Here, he gets to love Magnus, because there are no duties, no requirements, no hand-picked suitors with only his money at heart. There’s just them, and this little slice of life they’ve managed to build together.

 

It’s a life that Alec wants to share forever.

 

“God, I’m starving.” Magnus loops an arm around Alec’s waist, pressing a warm kiss to his temple before skirting around towards the fridge. “I missed out on lunch, Teddy came in, needed a special consult.”

 

Alec smiles to himself. “You know, you mean the world to that kid. You give him hope.”

 

Magnus hands Alec a glass of Riesling, paired with a fond and exasperated eye-roll. “I’m just doing my job, Alexander. He’s been through a lot in life, more than a kid his age should have, and it’s not as though high school is a piece of cake for anyone.”

 

Alec shrugs, a slight smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “I wouldn’t know – and for that matter, neither would you. We were both tutored. Neither of us went to high school.”

 

“I’ve watched enough films to get a grasp on what it would be like – Teddy has never gone so far as to label it Hell, but he also has a different perspective than most.”

 

Alec lifts his hand, thumbing at the creases that bridge between Magnus’ eyes. “You’re good for him, babe. When he first started his sessions, he wouldn’t even speak to you. Now, you’re the one person in life he trusts the most. If you weren’t his therapist, and if it didn’t go against a billion codes of ethics, I’m almost certain he’d send you a friend request on Facebook.”

 

“I don’t have Facebook.” Magnus murmurs. “It breaches the promise I made your parents when they agreed to let you travel to Brooklyn; I was to accompany you, and keep you and your identity safe. Facebook rather negates that purpose.”

 

Alec huffs, poking Magnus’ forehead with his thumb. “Stop trying to change the subject. You’re good at what you do, and Teddy is proof of that.”

 

Magnus purses his lips, and Alec has to smile, because their food will get cold if he follows the alternative path his brain is suggesting. “You save lives every day.” Magnus points out, somewhat petulantly, which just means that Alec is right, and Magnus doesn’t want to concede defeat.

 

“So we’ve both got good karma.” Alec shrugs, knocking his shoulder into Magnus’. “If you don’t consider Teddy proof that this is what you’re meant to do with your life, there are countless other patients you could look to – or, you can stop with me.”

 

“You?” Magnus frowns.

 

“You saved my life, Magnus. I wouldn’t be here, if it weren’t for you, I wouldn’t have this job, or this apartment or this  _ life _ . You gave me a future away from the crown and for that I will forever be grateful.”

 

“Alexander,” Magnus shakes his head, slowly. “You worked hard, for all of this. You did this. I just stood in support of your dreams, because – I love you. I’ve loved you since we were twelve and I’ll love you long after.”

 

There’s a beat of relative silence, where the only thing to be heard is the steady click of the hallway clock and the distant echoes of emergency sirens that fill the city sky. That is, until-

 

“Marry me,” Alec whispers, his voice suddenly hoarse.

 

“What?”

 

Alec clears his throat, turning so that Magnus holds his complete attention. There’s a flicker of something in Magnus’ eyes - apprehension, perhaps - though it’s masked before Alec has the chance to decipher it.

 

Knowing that he has the chance, to take back his words, to change his mind and pretend that none of this ever happened, is what spurs Alec towards the opposite. This is  _ Magnus _ , they’ve been best friends since they were four, and there’s nobody in the entire world that Alec would rather spend the rest of his life with.

 

“Marry me.” Alec repeats, reaching out to cup Magnus’ cheek. “It’s always been you, Magnus.”

 

“Alexander,” Magnus’ expression shifts, torn between mournful and apologetic. Alec’s heart splinters, but he ignores it, because he’s certain he’s just reading the situation wrong.

 

“I know I don’t have a ring, or – or anything, really. But I love you, and I want to marry you, if … if you want the same.”

 

“Alexander,” Magnus shakes his head, his slender fingers wrapping around Alec’s wrist. “I would marry you in a heartbeat, if I could.”

 

“You can,” Alec frowns. “Who’s stopping you?”

 

Magnus kisses the bottom of Alec’s palm with a tenderness that is aching. “Your parents. The entire population of Idris. Every eligible suitor the royal advisors have promised your hand to.”

 

“I don’t care about any of them. I care about us, about  _ you,  _ I love  _ you _ .” Alec steps forward, until space is nothing but a concept. “I want to build a life, with you, far away from any talk of princes and kings and duty. I left Idris because I didn’t want the life that was laid out for me there, I thought you came with me because you wanted the same.”

 

“Your safety and happiness is all that I want in life, Alexander, but you’re not a civilian and I’m not royalty. Your parents would never let us marry, not without prying your future, your birthright away from you.”

 

“I don’t care about my birthright,” Alec takes a shaky step back, his left pinkie finger twitching against his palm. “I’ve never wanted to be a prince, never – I have always wanted to marry you.”

 

“Alec-“

 

“I need some air.” Alec offers Magnus a tight smile. “I’m not upset, Magnus, and certainly not at you. I just need some air. This isn’t exactly how I thought the night would go.”

 

Each step away from Magnus echoes a slight crack in Alec’s composure, but he keeps it together long enough to grab his leather jacket and make it out the front door. There’s a late-night bakery a few blocks away, which they only tend to go to as a matter of celebration; though there isn’t much to be celebrated here, Alec knows that an apology almond croissant will go further to mending any bridge that fractured than his words will.

 

Tomorrow, he’ll figure out an alternative, because he’ll be damned if he’s just going to give up on hope for the future of their relationship that easily. He’s come too far to let other people start telling his story.

* * *

 

 

The thud of Alec’s footsteps are exaggeratedly loud, echoing against the marble floor with such a resounding beat that there is no chance of it being accidental. Magnus turns a page in his novel, peering through his thin tortoise-shell reading glasses as the door to his bedroom swings open, Alec’s frustration as palpable as a hurricane.

 

“I take it your parents haven’t decided to let you forgo the crown completely?” Magnus ponders, staring at the page before him without actually reading it. All hope of finishing the chapter has been lost – it’s fortunate, that this is his fourth time reading  _ We Have Always Lived In The Castle _ , Alec’s interruption not quite leaving him on the edge of a tense and unsolved cliff-hanger.

 

“I could only be so lucky.” Alec laments, falling backwards onto Magnus’ bed. At least he remembered to shut the door this time, unlike that time he’d come in, moaning about having to escort one of the royal adviser's daughters, only for his father – and aforementioned adviser – to walk past a second later.

 

“Says the actual, real-life prince,” Magnus points out, slipping a bookmark between the worn-out pages. “I have a feeling luck can’t save you this time, so, what is it?”

 

Alec frowns, his nose scrunched up and his eyes shut tight. “I have to host a ball – the Spring Ball, as a matter of fact, which means I not only have to dance with what will no-doubt seem like a hundred girls, but I also have to be  _ good _ at it. You know I have two left feet, how on earth am I supposed to do this, without embarrassing myself and my  _ entire family _ ?”

 

“The same way you do most things,” Magnus stands from his desk, taking care to make as little noise as possible. “With a stubborn, bullish determination and honourable attention to detail.”

 

Alec pouts - a top five in Magnus’  _ ‘favourite Alec Lightwood expressions’ _ list - and throws his hand over his eyes. “You’re being an awful best friend, I’ll have you know.”

 

“I’m a wonderful best friend, thank you very much. Some would consider themselves lucky to have a friend such as myself, you’re just being grumpy - justified, I’ll admit, but still grumpy.”

 

“I’m sorry,” Alec slumps, an admirable feat with how he’s lain on Magnus’ bed. “I am lucky, I’m just being petulant, but that’s not fair to you.”

 

Magnus waves his hand, even knowing Alec can’t see. “You’re forgiven, though there’s hardly anything to apologise for. We survived the Easter Cotillion of ‘07 with our friendship intact, after all.”

 

“God that was horrible.  _ I  _ was horrible. I can’t believe you stuck around.” 

 

Magnus’ heart does him the honours of reminding him exactly why when it hopscotches against his rib cage.

 

“Well,” Magnus clears his throat. “Aren’t you glad I did?”

 

Alec frowns, eyes still scrunched closed. “Of course? That’s a stupid question, I-“

 

It’s a questionable move, but a necessary one - Alec flails, eyes wide as Magnus pulls him up, hands wrapped tightly around his wrists. 

 

“You’ll thank me later,” Magnus explains, guiding Alec’s left hand to his waist, his right linking almost instinctively with Magnus’. 

 

Magnus grits his teeth against a shaky breath and lets his hand fall to Alec’s shoulder, their arms almost parallel to each other. Alec’s eyes are wide, his cheeks a flushed, candy-cane pink, but his hesitant smile is full of warmth and it’s a present reminder of why Magnus fell in love with him in the first place.

 

“Just, follow my lead, and try not to step on my toes  _ too _ often. If we can get the general steps down, it will be easier to teach you how to appear as though you are leading, because I guarantee the ladies you’ll dance with, will have had years of more extensive and critical training than you have, and will be more than capable of handling themselves.”

 

“I had dance training,” Alec pours, his hand flexing curiously against Magnus’ hips. “It was a waste of time, but I still had to do it. Aline threatened to wear steel-cap boots if I kept stepping on her toes, so that ‘I’d know how it feels’.”

 

A wry smile tugs at the corner of Magnus’ mouth. “I wouldn’t have put it past her to go through with that threat - it’s a shame that none of your lessons proved fruitful.”

 

_ Oh yes,  _ Magnus’ mind sings, tauntingly.  _ Such a shame.  _

 

Alec shrugs, the movement disrupting Magnus’ hand - it shifts, curving against Alec’s shoulder, fingers digging in to the muscle beneath his t-shirt. Magnus knows, logically, that Alec is attractive and considerably built, from all the riding lessons and archery practice and the odd boxing session when he’s feeling particularly tense … but it’s another thing to actually  _ feel _ it. 

 

It’s enough to make him a little faint. 

 

“I’ve never been a dancer,” Alec comments, casually, as though Magnus isn’t currently having an aneurysm. “I’m nowhere near graceful enough. Not like you.”

 

“I’m nothing special,” Magnus brushes it off, thinking of the ballets he’s accompanied Alec to, the professionals with their impossible talent. “I just do it for fun.”

 

He takes a step to the side, encouraging Alec to follow, because they’ve basically just been standing there holding hands, and the intensity of Alec’s gaze is becoming suffocating. 

 

“You’re beautiful,” Alec clamps his lips tight after he’d said it, but it’s too late, the words already ringing around Magnus’ mind. 

 

“You think I’m beautiful when I dance?” Magnus edges backwards, and Alec follows, countering his move without a thought. 

 

Alec blinks, and steps closer, his chest bumping Magnus’. “I think you’re always beautiful.” He admits, gaze skipping across Magnus’ face, from his red-tipped ears to the impossible hope that flickers in his eyes like a flame that refuses to be doused. 

 

“Alexander,” 

 

Alec hums, his hand sliding to rest against the small of Magnus’ back. “Magnus.”

 

“This,” Magnus wets his lips, heart pounding a staccato thunder in his chest. “This is highly improper, Alec. You’re a prince.”

 

“You’re my best friend.” Alec shakes his head, although it seems more of a world-weary exasperation. “I care more about you than I do my crown.”

 

If Alec’s hands were anything but tightly wrapped around Magnus, it’s a sure bet that he would have tipped back already.

 

“Don’t joke.” Magnus threatens, though his tone is weak, because he’s been in love with Alec since he was twelve and he first learnt that your best friend isn’t supposed to give you butterflies, and all of this feels a little too good to be true after growing complacent in his pining. 

 

“I wouldn’t joke about this.” Alec lifts his hand, curving his fingers against Magnus’ jaw. “I’m the worst dancer in the history of the practice, but I’d dance with you any day. I’d make a fool of myself in front of the entire kingdom if I could watch you shine - I’d do anything for you.”

 

It’s a bittersweet smile that carves, barely reaching Magnus’ eyes, because here is this wonderful guy, who loves Magnus - that much clear in his words and the adoring way his thumb strokes Magnus’ cheek - and he’s promising Magnus’ the world as though it is truly his to take. 

 

Magnus was never meant for a life this grand - his mother died in childbirth, his father shipped him off to live with a relative who’d no clue of his existence. It was only through the kindness of the king and queen that he’s found himself here, a ward of the state, with the future king as his best friend. He owes Maryse and Robert his life, and a debt of gratitude far bigger than he ever could repay. 

 

He can’t take their son, and heir, for his own desires. Alec may not behold loyalty to the crown, as is his want to do, but Magnus cannot be the reason he turns down his reign. That must be a decision he makes on his own, not one influenced by Magnus’ feelings. 

 

“Oh, Alexander,” Magnus whispers, smiling even as his heart splinters. 

 

He’d sacrifice anything for Alec’s happiness, even if it means his own. 

 

* * *

 

Alec’s huddled in a cozy, disgustingly festive coffee shop (the bakery has been uncharacteristically closed) when his phone starts blaring Queen’s instrumental version of ‘God Save The Queen’. 

 

He huffs exasperatedly, and answers the call. 

 

“Mom.” His shoulders pull back, despite his firm knowledge that his mother can’t see his weak posture. “It’s a bit late, isn’t it?”

 

“Not when you’re upset,” Maryse’s cool tone is edged in a warmth she’s only ever shown her children, biological and chosen. “A mother’s intuition is her strongest tool, and mine has never been wrong. I called in case you wanted, or needed, to talk about it.”

 

Maryse has never been one to dance around a subject, and her straightforwardness, whilst also a trait that Alec has taken himself, is greatly appreciated in this moment. He doesn’t have the energy to pretend as though he’s fine when it’s clear that he isn’t. 

 

“I asked Magnus to marry me.” He admits, his free hand clenching against the paper coffee cup. “And he said no.”

 

If Maryse is surprised at his admission, she doesn’t provide any indication. “I’m guessing he isn’t wherever you are, then?”

 

“I left him at home,” Alec glances through the faux-frosted window, where the Christmas lights are bright and glaring. He feels mocked. “I couldn’t stay there, so I told him I needed some air, and I - left.”

 

Maryse pauses, and the depth of her silence is deafening. Alec fiddles with the sugar packets in front of him, desperate for something to occupy his hands while his mind spins at the speed of light. 

 

“Did he tell you why he wouldn’t agree to marry you?” Maryse asks, her tone delicate and patient. There’s more to her question than what she’s asking, but the answers she wants aren’t the ones that Alec has. 

 

“Because I’m  _ royalty _ ,” The term burns like acid on the tip of his tongue. “And he’s not, and it wouldn’t be fair of him to take my birthright away from him.” 

 

He doesn’t mention that Magnus doesn’t believe Alec’s parents will let them marry, because he still can’t wrap his mind around that part. 

 

Maryse had already given them her blessings, when they left, and Alec had admitted to her that he loved Magnus in a way he couldn’t imagine ever loving anybody else. He remembers it vividly, the warmth of her hands as they cupped his face, the gentle pressure of the kiss she pressed to his forehead, the love in her eyes when she made him promise that he’d always put love first, because it was the most important thing in the world. 

 

He knew, that she and Robert hadn’t been brought together through love, that she’d had to learn how to love him even as he loved others, that the weight of her crown had been bending her back since she was a baby. The last thing she’d ever wanted for him was to feel trapped. 

 

_ “You’re happy with him,” _ She’d acknowledged, pinching his cheek in the way only mothers do.  _ “That’s all I could ever want for my children. I won’t take that away from you, and neither should anybody else. Forget the crown - between your siblings, your father’s illegitimate heirs and my cousin’s children, there are plenty of people to take over. Let us worry about the future of the kingdom - you’ve got to follow your heart.” _

 

Following his heart always had, and always will, lead him to Magnus - it’s why this feels so much like rejection, why his heart feels as though it’s stuck in a metal vice. 

 

“You never told him about our conversation, then.” Maryse doesn’t phrase it as a question, and she’s clearly not looking for him to answer. “He thinks that if he agrees to marry you, he’s holding you back from reaching a greater potential - one you can’t reach if you marry outside of royalty.”

 

“I’ve never wanted that,” Alec whispers. “All I’ve ever wanted was to  _ help  _ people, and with this job I’m doing that. I’ve helped save lives, and even on the bad days, the worst days … coming home to Magnus makes everything better. Why doesn’t he understand that I’d give up anything to spend the rest of my life with him?”

 

“Magnus only wants the best for you,” Maryse explains, with an enviable patience. “The last thing he could fathom is restricting you, in any fashion. I saw the way he looked at you before you knew about his feelings, Alec - you hung every star in his sky, and there’s nobody who could ever convince him otherwise. Love … true love, like the two of you share, is beautiful and precious and the messiest, most illogical thing possible. Of course it would be easier, if he shared your perspective, but love isn’t easy.”

 

Alec accidentally tears open one of the sugar packets, tiny white crystals spilling onto the table in a tumbling cascade. He stares at them, unable to move, as his mother’s words continue to filter through the speaker of his phone. 

 

“The two of you, I firmly believe, are meant to be together. But relationships take work, a lot of it, and this is no exception. He didn’t flat-out dismiss your proposal, he contested quite valid concerns as to why it wouldn’t be the best idea. It’s up to you to convince him that his worries, whilst well-founded, are nothing to stress about. That boy has wanted to marry you since you were children, Alec, it’s only his love for you that is preventing this, because he’d rather put your happiness before his own.”

 

“He is my happiness,” 

 

Alec can almost hear his mother’s smile through the phone. “Then tell him that.”

 

* * *

 

Alec returns to the apartment to find Magnus wearing a figurative run in the cheap, fluffy rug they’d bought to keep the wooden floorboards from freezing their apartment in the winter, his hands wringing anxiously before him. 

 

His head snaps up like a taut puppet’s string when Alec enters, his eyes wide, the colour drawn from his skin. The distance between them feels like a chasm - it reminds Alec, strangely, of the first time Magnus had shown him the movie Shrek, having insisted it was iconic, and the scene where the titular character and his donkey-companion are crossing a rickety, dangerous bridge, with every possibility of falling to their immediate deaths. 

 

This, is absolutely nothing like that, and the obviousness calms him. 

 

This isn’t a rickety bridge, or a quest, or a trek across a death drop. This is  _ Magnus _ .

 

“Alexander,” Magnus twists the ring that Alec’s sister, Isabelle, had given him for his eighteenth birthday, a nervous habit he’d never been able to quite shift. His mouth parts and closes, gaping wide, but no words come out. 

 

“I’m sorry,” Alec steps forward, just once. “I should have been more considerate - I didn’t plan to propose, I promise, I just … in the moment, it felt right. But it was wrong for me to expect anything.”

 

Magnus shakes his head, fervent. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

 

“I didn’t do much right, either.” Alec scrubs the back of his neck. “I love you, more than anything, and I need you to be sure of that. I’ve never been happier than I am when I’m with you, and all that matters to me is ensuring you feel the same. I don’t regret proposing, because I did mean it, but it wasn’t fair of me to just assume that you’d say yes.”

 

“I wanted to,” Magnus sways forward. “It broke my heart not to.”

 

Alec’s heart lurches into his throat. “Because you thought it would deprive me of something?”

 

Magnus’ gaze falls somewhere between desperate and mournful. “Alexander-“

 

“It wouldn’t.” Alec steps close, until Magnus is within arm’s reach, his skin electric with the need to make contact. “Magnus, you’re my future, you’re - I never dreamed of being king, but I always dreamed of falling in love with somebody like you. There are countless people tripping over themselves to take the kingdom, and my parents are far too smart to give it away to someone who won’t do it justice - but I’m just, not one of them.”

 

“You say that now,” Magnus protests. Alec reaches for Magnus’ hands, squeezing them tightly. 

 

“I also said it to my mother, before we left for New York. She told me to choose love because it is the most important thing in the world, and that’s  _ you _ . I’ll always choose you, married or not.”

 

Magnus swallows thickly, his eyes darting across Alec’s face, although there’s nothing but the purest truth to be found. “You’d really give it all up … for me?”

 

“For you,” Alec nods, a tiny smile threatening the corners of his mouth. “And my patients, and old Mrs Ruiz down the hall, and the stray cats that mysteriously find their way up our fire escape, and the hope of our future together. There’s nothing for me in Idris. My life is here, with you. This is all I have ever wanted.” 

 

“This.” Magnus looks as though he dare not be too hopeful, and yet is simultaneously and greatly failing at it. “I never dreamed I’d be so lucky as to marry you. I thought for sure it was too wishful, it’s always been easier to pretend as though it was never a possibility, than to entertain the slim hope it might work in my favour.” 

 

Alec squeezes Magnus’ hands, and then dips down until he’s resting on one knee, staring up at Magnus like the lost do the moon, searching for the light to guide them home. 

 

“You don’t have to say yes.” Alec assures Magnus, his thumb stroking nonsense patterns against the back of Magnus’ hand. “I’m just giving you the chance. No wishful thinking, no foolish dreams, no fancy ring or beholden expectations - just me, and you, and an open question.”

 

“Ask me,” Magnus whispers, his grip on Alec’s hands almost painful. “Please, ask me again.”

 

“Magnus Bane,” Alec’s eyed prick with unshed tears, the corners burning, his heart pounding a marathon. He wouldn’t change a thing. “Will you do me the honour of becoming my husband?”

 

Magnus nods, tears streaming freely down his cheeks. “Yes, yes, I will. Absolutely.”

 

“Are you sure?” Alec teases, through quick and silent tears of his own. 

 

“I’ve never been more certain of anything in my entire life.” Magnus tugs on Alec’s hands, pulling him close, until their fingers are squashed between their chests. Their noses bump, and Alec’s eyes flutter closed, his lips finding Magnus’ without direction. 

 

The kiss is tender, and slow, the two of them taking their time as though they have it in spades. 

 

In a way, they do. They have their entire future left. 

 

**Author's Note:**

> i'm not sure this entirely counts, as I've orphaned and deleted a few weeks on here already, but technically this is my "100th" fic to be posted to this site, and it feels like quite the accomplishment. I hope to have the opportunity to post a hundred more ❤
> 
> \--
> 
> links - for those interested:
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>   
> tumblr: [here](https://ninwrites.tumblr.com/)  
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> (and while you're there check out the [shfanficnexus](https://shfanficnexus.tumblr.com/), a collection of work by wonderfully talented and lovely writers <3 )  
> thank you for reading!
> 
> \- Nin ❤


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